by Maurice Gee
They went down like a sled in an ice-chute, swinging up the sides on every turn. The bends drew tighter, cork-screwing, then seemed to widen out. It was impossible to count them, but to Theo it seemed they must have dropped almost a hundred metres. The slope grew gentler then and the tunnel straightened out. He guessed they were being carried under the lake. The torch followed round the bend and lit the tunnel sides for a moment but their own huge shadow blotted out whatever lay ahead.
They burst into the open like a train from a tunnel. Clouds of choking dust rose about them. The torch came down and thumped the back of Rachel’s head. She cried out. Then a silence fell so intense they could almost hear the beating of their hearts. In a moment they were able to open their eyes. They scrambled up and held on to each other. The dust began to settle.
They were in a huge room, a chamber as large as a school assembly hall. It seemed to be hollowed out of stone. A grey light filled it, so dull they had trouble seeing each other, yet painful, intense. They were forced to peer about through half-closed lids. Floating midway between ceiling and floor, taking up more than half the space in the room, was a huge grey-brown balloon, a globe, a planet, turning lazily at a pace the twins could have kept up with by walking. The grey light shone from it and was reflected back from the stone walls. The globe had no life. Yet it moved, it hung without support, held by a force that must, Theo thought, be generated in its interior. He went towards it slowly. Its surface made him shudder – so gluey-looking, so cold.
‘Don’t touch it.’
‘Why not?’
Their voices echoed in the chamber, seemed to round the globe and pounce on them from the other side. They spoke after that without making sounds, without realising fully what they were doing.
‘It might be dangerous. Electric.’
‘I don’t think so. It’s just – I feel as if I’ll pick up germs if I touch it.’
He reached out his hand all the same. His fingers sank into the globe’s surface and came away coated with slime. ‘It’s freezing. Like cold porridge. Why doesn’t it fall off if it’s so thin?’
‘What is it?’
‘Mud, I think.’
‘There’s something sticking up. It looks like mountains.’
A ridge of stone stood up from the mud. It moved slowly past their eyes, a dozen metres out of Theo’s reach.
‘There’s another.’ Soon they made out many more, grey on the paler grey of the mud. There were single peaks, and ridges that twisted across the surface like snakes.
‘There’s a smooth one.’
‘That’s not a mountain.’
It was a bubble of grey glass about the size of a pudding bowl, rising from the mud and gleaming dully. ‘There’s one down here.’ They counted seven.
‘What are they?’
‘I don’t know … I think this is maybe – the world they come from.’
‘The slugs? They live in mud?’
He shrugged. ‘I might as well get a photo.’
They hunted in the dust by the tunnel entrance and found his camera not far from the torch. Rachel shone the beam on a mountain range, then on one of the glass bubbles, while Theo took photographs.
‘They probably won’t come out. There’s dust all over the lens.’
‘Theo, I’m not so scared now. I’m remembering bits of the afternoon. Are you?’
‘I can remember most of it. It looks as if we’ve broken through his barrier. But that doesn’t help us out of here.’
‘What do you call a thing with seven sides?’
‘I’m not sure. Heptagon, I think. Or heptahedron. Why?’
‘I can see my stone. In a blurry sort of way. It comes and goes.’
‘I can see something too. Shining.’
‘It’s got seven sides. It’s red – like a huge ruby.’
‘Mine’s blue. I can see it in time with my heartbeat.’
‘Do you think he’ll be angry? Us remembering? And learning to pebble again?’
‘I don’t think he’ll ever know. We’re trapped in here.’
‘There might be other tunnels.’
They walked around the globe, keeping their eyes on the wall. There were two more openings. Both had the appearance of culverts and both had the same grey lining.
‘This one goes down, the same as the one in the cellar. It must go deeper under the lake. I wonder what’s down there.’
‘I don’t want to find out. Theo, can you hear anything?’
He listened. ‘No.’
‘I thought I heard that quacking sound again. Far away.’
‘Come on. Let’s try the other.’
The second tunnel ran straight and flat. They walked along it bent from the waist, with their hair brushing the ceiling.
‘Which way is it going?’
‘I don’t know. I’m hoping it’ll come out on the other side of the lake. Maybe they own another house.’
‘How long will it take them to break the trapdoor?’
‘Not long. But I think there’s probably another entrance. Maybe down in the lake. That’s the only reason for them swimming.’
‘This could be the entrance.’
‘I know. We could meet them coming.’
‘How far have we gone?’
‘Not far. A hundred metres.’
Their thoughts went back and forth more quickly than spoken words. They took comfort from it. It was hard to believe they could be captured now. It would be such a waste. Yet they could not see how they were to escape. The only thing to do was to keep going.
The tunnel began to turn left and gradually climb. Their feet began to slip.
‘Get down and crawl.’
‘The torch gets in the way.’
‘Put it in your shirt.’
But the slope grew steeper. Even crawling they made little progress. The had to press their palms so hard on the tunnel floor that soon their arms were aching too much for them to go on.
‘Try turning side on. Put your feet on one wall and your back on the other. Is that easier?’
‘A bit.’
But as she spoke her lower hand skidded from under her. She slid back, collided with Theo, and together they careered back down the slope and ten metres along the flat.
‘All right. Try again. Take it slower this time.’
They made painful progress. Twice Rachel slipped but Theo had braced himself firmly enough to hold them.
‘How far have we come now?’
‘I haven’t got a clue. But we must be close to the other side of the lake. If that’s the way we’re going.’
‘Quiet, Theo.’
‘I’m not talking. Remember?’
‘Quiet.’
They both listened intently. The sounds she had heard came again – a distant quacking.
‘Be still. Don’t make a sound.’
The quacking grew louder, and suddenly its volume doubled.
‘They’ve come into the big room.’
For a moment there was no sound. Then a single quack. Then nothing again.
‘Where do you think they are?’
‘I’m not sure. They must have come up from below. So maybe they’ve gone back down. Or they might be in the other tunnel – the one going up to the cellar. That means they’ll open the trapdoor.’
‘Oh Theo –’
‘Get going. And for God’s sake don’t slip.’
They started their sideways progress again. Behind them the silence was complete.
‘Theo, it’s flattening out.’
‘Keep going.’
‘It’s level. Wait, I’m going to use the torch.’
She took it out of her shirt and shone it ahead.
‘Theo,’ she wailed.
‘What is it?’ He peered past her, and saw. The tunnel simply ended. A short way ahead the grey glass curved down, up, in from either side, and closed like the bottom of a test tube.
‘We’re trapped.’
‘But that’s impossible. Ther
e’s no sense in it. A tunnel’s got to go somewhere.’
They crawled to the end, shone the torch about, felt the walls, and then crouched, defeated. There was no argument. They were caught like flies in a bottle.
‘I’m not going back. I’m not going down that other one.’
‘Nor me … It’s too late anyway.’
They had both heard it: a quacking, a slithering sound. The air about them seemed to turn to ice.
‘Keep the torch going.’
The quacking stopped, but the sliding sound grew louder, grew into a gluey, squeaky hiss. The twins pressed themselves into the end of the tunnel. Rachel kept the torch pointed at the place where the slugs would appear. Theo held his camera by its strap to use as a weapon.
Two of the creatures appeared, side by side. They were small. The ones that had come out of the cellar had been the size of forty-gallon drums. These were scarcely a metre long. But there was no mistaking their menace. They had stopped at the top of the slope. Now they began to slide forward. The two knobs on their front – eyes or nose, the twins could not tell – pulsed from black to red. They came slowly, inching forward, stopped a moment to quack – a question? an answer? – slid forward again; but slower now.
‘It’s the light. I think it hurts them.’
‘It’s not going to stop them though.’
He reached forward and swung his camera. It was an awkward blow but it made the slugs ooze back. The camera struck the tunnel floor with a smashing sound.
‘There go my pictures.’
‘They’re scared, Theo. These ones must be babies.’
‘They’re coming back. They’re splitting up.’
The slugs were sliding different ways, one up either wall of the tunnel.
‘I can’t cover them both.’
‘Just keep the torch straight ahead.’
He struck again. This time the camera caught one of the slugs in the middle of its back but it simply bounced off like a rubber ball. The slug quacked. Its companion answered. They had learned something. Again they moved forward.
‘Theo,’ Rachel cried, ‘think light. Quickly. A searchlight. Flood the tunnel with light.’
‘How …’
‘With your mind, you dummy. Light. Light. Concentrate.’
They threw their minds into it. They made a beam – white, searing, strong enough to light a city street, and although they could see no change with their eyes, although the feeble torch-light still made its yellow pool in the tunnel, in their minds everything was scorched, was held in a pitiless glare. They poured the full force of it straight at the slugs.
For a moment nothing happened. Then the two creatures curled up at the edges, tried to fold their bodies to shield their ‘eyes’. They backed off, turned, slid away blindly, quacking with terror or pain. The twins followed them to the top of the slope and kept the beam pointing down the tunnel. Only when the slugs were out of sight, when there was no more sound, did they relax. At once they felt exhausted. They almost fell, and Theo had to grab Rachel’s arm to stop her from sliding away down the tunnel. The torch fell from her hand and sped away, but it did not seem important now. They crawled back to the end of the tunnel and lay close together, curled up.
‘My head’s aching,’ Theo whispered.
‘Mine too. Do you think they’ve gone to let the others in?’
‘I think the bolt’s too high. They’re baby ones.’
They lay quiet for another moment. Rachel said, ‘I can’t see my stone any more.’
‘We’ve used up our strength. It wouldn’t work against Mr Wilberforce anyhow. It might hurt him but it wouldn’t stop him.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’m too tired to think. I want to go to sleep.’
‘Don’t, Theo. We’ve got to get out. You said there must be a reason for this tunnel. A hidden entrance.’
‘I felt everywhere.’
‘Why isn’t it dark?’
‘It is dark.’
‘Open your eyes. There’s a sort of light in the ceiling.’ He opened them, then sat up slowly. He felt his tiredness melt away. The roof of the tunnel was rippling, flickering. A faint yellow light came through it from something that glowed fuzzily, like a veiled electric bulb.
‘It’s the moon, Theo. I know it is.’
‘It could be just another one of their models.’
‘It’s the moon shining through water. We’re under the lake.’
‘But we’ve come too far down. We can’t be that close to the surface.’ He put his hand up cautiously and touched the ceiling, then drew it back. His fingers were sticky with some sort of semi-transparent jelly.
‘That wouldn’t keep water out.’
Again he put up his hand and this time pushed it in. It went deeper, up to his wrist, his elbow, almost to his shoulder. He gave a small cry and drew it back. ‘I came out the other side. It’s water, I think.’ He tried again.
‘It’s water all right. This stuff’s only about half a metre through. Wait a minute.’ He bent his wrist down and felt all around with his fingers. ‘It’s hard on top. Like rock. It must be like that one-way glass. You can put your arm through it this way but not the other, so the water doesn’t get in. They must have some way of reversing it when they come in from outside.’
‘Can we get through?’
‘I don’t see why not. We’ve got to try, anyway.’
‘How deep do you think the water is?’
‘Don’t worry about that. Just hold your breath and swim like mad for the surface.’
‘Can I go first? I couldn’t stand being here by myself.’
‘I’m not sure I can either.’
‘Please, Theo.’
‘OK. Put your foot in my hands. I’m going to heave you right through. It’s soft, so don’t be scared.’
For a moment they stood poised like a pair of gymnasts. Then Theo heaved Rachel up. Her head and shoulders disappeared through the ceiling. He took the soles of her feet in a harder grip and gave a second heave. The light of the moon was partly blotted out. He saw her shadow moving in the water, then flattening out as it reached the surface. There was no sound in the tunnel. He crouched and listened. Then he reached up and plunged his arm into the jelly. He took a hold of its hard upper surface, and saw at once that he had not understood the difficulty of getting out of the tunnel without help. He would have to push both arms through, get an elbow out on the surface and lever himself up. That meant his face would be in the jelly as long as the operation took. He went cold at the thought. But it had to be done. He stuffed the broken camera down his shirt, pushed both arms into the jelly, took a hold, and started to pull himself up. It took all the strength he had. The jelly pressed against his mouth, into his nose. He struggled to get an elbow on to the ledge, but the jelly was heavy, it slowed him. He fell back, gulped in air, scraped the slime from his face. Above, Rachel circled, waiting. He tried again. This time he managed. He got an elbow out and levered on his forearm. His face broke through into water. But still he could not breathe and now he was desperate. It seemed to have taken minutes to get this far. He got his palms flat down, thrust as hard as he could, felt for the jelly surface with his foot, and thrust again. His buoyancy helped now. His other foot came free. Paddling and kicking madly, he made for the surface. He broke through into dazzling light, into air that was sharp with salt.
Rachel caught his shoulder. ‘I thought you weren’t coming. We’re in the sea.’
The air seemed almost liquid. He took it into his throat in long gulps. ‘I nearly – got stuck. I thought I was – a goner.’
‘It’s Thornes Bay. There are the rocks. Come on, Theo. Before they come after us.’
She let go his shoulder and started to dog-paddle towards the shore. He followed, using the same stroke. The water was silver with moonlight. Rocks were piled on either side of a short grey beach. They made for the nearer ones, less than a hundred metres away. The tide was at its lowest. Soon they wer
e able to wade. They pulled themselves on to the rocks and crouched there shivering. The sky behind Rangitoto was gathering a faint colour between yellow and grey. It was almost dawn.
‘Let’s get home.’
Before they could move they heard the sound of a car coming down the road towards the beach. Lights glowed at the top of the bank.
‘Down. As low as you can get.’ Rachel was in charge now. Theo was dazed, still in a state of shock from his struggle to get through the jelly. He knelt on the jagged stone, feeling nothing, with his head buried in his arms.
Rachel watched between two walls of rock. The car lights went out, the engine noise stopped. A door opened and closed. The figure that hurried down the steps to the beach was one she could not mistake.
‘It’s Mr Wilberforce.’
Theo stirred slightly.
The man ran over the sand to the water and ploughed some distance into it. He knelt down. He was still and black as a rock. She guessed he was changing shape, getting ready to swim. In a moment he moved forward. She could not see what shape he had taken, he was like a black log on the water, making a silver wave. Then he plunged and was gone.
‘He’s heading towards the tunnel. Come on, Theo.’
He got to his feet. She helped him out of the rocks.
‘Now run. Straight for home. As fast as you can go.’
They ran. They ran. Across the sand, up the steps, past the black car, along footpaths, past hedges, gates, dark houses, through puddles of light under lamp-posts, thinking of one thing only – home.
They burst into the living-room. Rachel slammed the door behind her and fastened the safety chain.
The lights were on. Uncle Clarry poked his head out of the kitchen.
‘Where in God’s name did you two come from? I thought you were in bed.’
‘We went for a swim.’
‘At this hour? You pair of flipping idiots. In your clothes too.’ He looked at them closely. ‘What’s the matter with him?’
